


Subtlety

by kasia



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasia/pseuds/kasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working at a coffee shop wasn't ideal for high school senior Jim Kirk. But it gives him the excuse to shamelessly flirt with the cute med student who needs black coffee like he needs a good night's sleep. Jim is head-over-heels and subtlety means absolutely nothing to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subtlety

**Author's Note:**

> I need high school!Jim/college!Bones like I need air and I've been working on this nonstop. I really hope I did the idea justice and hope everyone enjoys it.

Jim Kirk worked in a coffee shop because he was too young to work as a bartender. He supposed that curing hangovers was the next best thing to causing them.

He parked his bike in the side lot; the cramped, cracked pavement was the designated space for employees. The morning was frozen. Schoolbag slung over one shoulder and keys jangling in his pocket, Jim sauntered tiredly in through the back door.

The back room doubled as an office. A desk and chair were crowded into the corner. Green aprons hung from pegs lined along the wall. Boxy shelves housed the belongings of on-shift baristas and busboys. The door to the parking lot was propped open, allowing the grey morning to flood the room.

Jim stuffed his knapsack into one of the cubby-holes and grabbed his time card from its slot. He clocked in before fussing with an apron. He was running late, what could he say?  
The sun had barely inched over the horizon; it was five minutes past five in the morning. Jim was a senior in high school with his winter exams around the corner. A healthy amount of sleep was a blessing he had not been graced with in weeks.

“Good morning,” he greeted no one in particular, ducking behind the counter. The scent of fresh coffee grounds hung thick in the air. Bottles of whipped cream and tubs of strawberries, orange wedges, and bananas sat on the counter. Jim leaned over the register, scanning the empty shop.

“Good morning,” Nyota Uhura returned casually. Her long hair was fashioned into a ponytail at the top of her head. A knitted scarf was wrapped around her neck, circling infinitely over her collar bones and shoulders. Her winged eyeliner was too sharp. Jim was well aware of her distaste for him. “You're late.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jim muttered, shrugging his shoulders. He drummed his fingers along the edge of the counter. “You going to tattle on me?”

Nyota waved her hand dismissively, settling before the second register beside him. “I let myself in this morning,” she said, “Nobody’s here but me.”

“Uh, thanks,” said Jim. The underlying ‘I’m not going to waste my time complaining to a manager who isn’t here half the time’ lingered between them.

He watched the empty shop. The ‘closed’ sign faced him, hanging in the window. The floor was swept; the tables and stools were cleaned. Bookshelves lined the brick walls. Invisible speakers hummed a mellow indie record.

“Is this your playlist?” asked Jim teasingly. His question was overshadowed by the chime of bells as the door was opened at the front of the shop.

A man, probably a college student by the looks of his disheveled hair and the dark circles under his eyes, dragged himself into the shop. Jim noticed him as he approached the counter – maybe a bit more than he should have. “Black coffee,” he said gruffly, fishing coins out of his pocket. “To go.”

“Sure thing,” said Jim, counting the change with his fingers before dumping it into the register. Nyota had already turned to the counter along the wall, beginning to brew the coffee. “It’ll be a few minutes, if you don’t mind. You're the first one in today and we’ll have to start a fresh pot.”

“Okay,” said the man, turning away from the counter. He slumped into one of the booths, face buried in his hands. Tired felt more like it was a part of him than a description of him.

Jim didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was short by ten cents. Instead, he asked, “Could I get a name for your cup?”

The man looked at him, expression a questioning scowl. He was the only one in the shop, Jim could have easily remembered that the only cup they were brewing was for him – but he was curious. “Leonard,” he answered.

Jim grinned to himself as he snagged a cup from the stack at the side of the register. He uncapped a marker and scrawled ‘you would be really cute if you got some sleep’ across the side. He waited beside the coffee pot, waiting impatiently for the timer to go off. He poured the coffee into the cup and capped the lid on top.

“Black coffee for Leonard,” Jim grinned, sounding more flirtatious than he intended to.

“Thanks, kid.” He took the coffee and disappeared out the door. Snow flurries dusted the pavement outside. Steam from the cup rose into the air, wisps of a ghost swirling with the snow flakes. Jim didn’t see Leonard’s face when he noticed the name.

“It’s Jim!” he managed to call to him walked away.

“The jerk was short by ten cents,” grumbled Nyota. She stole into the back room and returned with a sleek black wallet in her hands. She pinched a coin from the outside pocket and dropped it into the register drawer.

“He was a cute jerk,” insisted Jim.

xXx

Jim slouched behind his desk, legs splayed open. His textbooks were stacked on the windowsill beside him, blocking the draft that slithered through the thin panes. The glass was frosted over and stick clumps of snow had collected in the grass outside. Jim was shivering.

The silence of his study hall roared on around him. The kid in front of him shifted restlessly in his seat. Across the room, two girls whispered and giggled like they thought no one could hear them. The teacher monitoring the room shuffled through his papers. Jim just could not focus. It was maddening.

In the desk behind him, Gaila prodded him with her pen. “Are you working later?” Her whispery voice was quick, like every word that fell from her lips was important.

Jim twisted in his seat, looking over his shoulder at her. “Probably,” he answered, matching her hushed tone.

“You don’t know for sure?” Her eyes glittered, a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You must be really out of it, Jim.”

Jim shrugged. “I can check with Nyota at lunch,” he offered. “She’ll know what’s up.”

“I’m sure she loves you depending on her like that.” Gaila tossed her hair over her shoulder gently. She grinned. “Exams are killing you.”

“It’s no big deal,” Jim dismissed, sounding rather insistent. He felt wounded; he didn’t like to depend on people. He didn’t have to, either, usually. But his brother was home for the holidays and actually giving a damn about how Jim wasn’t taking care of himself.

Gaila shook her head. “You're hopeless,” she murmured. “Anyway, if you are working, I am going to stop by.”

Gaila visited the shop every once in a while, never too often – not even when they were dating and seeing Jim during his shift was the only time they could be together. She raved about how good the coffee was, though, and Jim always expected her to be there more often. She never did.

“You should,” he agreed. He glanced to the clock; there were ten minutes until the bell and he was fidgeting uneasily in his chair. “Do you think they’d be mad if I cut this afternoon?” Jim smirked at her.

She rolled her eyes. “I imagine someone would be. But, hey, with exams next week it’s not like they can throw anything new at us.”

Jim straightened behind his desk He gathered his textbooks from the windowsill. “You should come with me.”

Gaila stuck him with her pen again, harder. “I’ve got a reputation to keep,” she said quietly, like it was a great joke between them.

xXx

As it turned out, Jim didn’t have to work. But he was already there, so he dumped his knapsack onto a table and settled into the booth. He could feel Nyota’s eyes on him from behind the counter.

The coffee house stood as a warm refuge from the snowy afternoon, it was alive and buzzing with chatter. The line at the counter stretched to the door. Jim recognized several classmates huddled together in a booth across the shop, mugs held to their lips, breathing in the steam. Many of the tables were taken by university students, their books and laptops spread out before them as they picked apart their snacks and sipped from their cups.

The playlist Nyota had been playing that morning looped. Jim absentmindedly hummed along, recognizing the new tune, as he scanned over the pages of his astronomy book. He was easily distracted by the bells jingling every time the door was open, glancing up in hopes that it would be Gaila.

Jim had never been one to study, he didn’t know how. School had always been easy for him.

The next time Jim looked toward the door, Gaila was strutting in. She was wrapped in a peach sweater and a navy scarf; her cheeks were bitten by the cold. She looked lost before catching Jim’s eye and coming to sit across from him, sliding onto the bench gracefully. Gaila dropped her purse onto the table beside Jim’s book.

“You ever think that you spend too much time here?” asked Gaila. She stared past him, intently at the menu printed neatly on the chalkboard hanging behind the counter. It was mostly in Nyota’s handwriting, as hers was legible from a distance, but Jim had helped too.

“Gaila, I work here,” he reminded. She didn’t break her gaze away from the chalkboard. Gaila held her finger to her pursed lips in thought. Jim raised an eyebrow at her. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” she echoed.

“Pour over the menu. You already know exactly what you want. You order the same thing every time you're here.”

“I might change my mind. I might want to try something new, Jim, you never know.” Gaila’s tone was sharp, but lacked the condescending bitterness he would have expected from anyone else.

Jim was not keen to remind her that he also liked to try new things. She wasn’t too pleased with his sloppy experiment that landed him drunk and in bed with another guy. Jim was willing to lose her as a girlfriend, but not altogether.

“Oh, lighten up,” she said, pushing teasingly on his shoulder. Gaila rustled through her oversized purse, opened her wallet, and plucked out handful of bills. She snuck to the back of the line.

Jim watched the sluggish line. Gaila inched toward the counter, arms crossed over her chest and her hand closed around her phone and her money. He tried to look away, tried to read his astronomy book. Instead, Jim watched the line grow. Immediately standing behind Gaila was the cute college guy from that morning – Leonard.  
He didn’t notice Jim; he was looking down to his phone, disgruntled and scowling. God, he was so good looking.

“Good afternoon,” Jim drawled as Leonard passed by his booth. Gaila turned, glaring at him in surprise.

Leonard looked at him, scowling still, as if trying to place his face.

Jim grinned up at him. “You would be really cute if you got some sleep.”

Smooth, Gaila mouthed to him. Her sarcasm was in her eyes.

“I’m downright adorable, kid,” muttered Leonard gruffly.

Jim sat wide eyed for a moment. He was taken back like holy shit his voice is really hot. And he had a delicious southern accent that Jim could practically taste.

Gaila almost jumped from her place in line. Instead, she stared Jim down as she glided toward the counter, placed her order with Nyota and stole quickly back to the booth. “What was that?” she whispered fiercely.

“What?” Jim was anything but oblivious.

Gaila’s eyes darted swiftly to Leonard and then focused back on Jim. “You have no concept of subtlety. And he’s, like, at least five years older than you.”

“I’m eighteen,” Jim returned, rather loudly.

“You sound so thirsty.” Gaila laughed. She looked toward the counter again. “Nice ass, though.”

xXx

Jim was early to work the next morning. He rested his bike in the space beside Nyota’s car and clocked in two whole minutes early. Jim was impressed with himself.

“Good morning,” said Nyota quietly. She was hacking off the tops of strawberries and collecting the decapitated fruit in a plastic container. “Did you see the grades for psychology were posted?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t log on last night.” Really, Jim just never checked his grades. His teachers let him know if there were ever any problems. Ignorance kept him from stressing himself out and spreading himself too thin. “How’d you do?”

“Fine.” Nyota sounded unhappy. “I mean, I could have done better.”

“You could get a perfect score and still say that you could have done better.” Jim put on a pot of coffee. He punched buttons on the coffee maker, reminded dumbly that Nyota took care of all the complicated orders. “You're a perfectionist.”

Nyota placed the container of strawberries aside and reached for the slightly-green bunch of bananas, deftly beginning to peel each. She sliced those, too, and scooped the pieces into the strawberry container. She nodded in agreement as she worked.

“It’s the middle of winter,” Jim mused to no one in particular, “Who even wants a cold smoothie?”

“People still order iced coffee. I don’t think time of year matters.” Nyota’s ponytail swayed along her spine as she worked.

The bells above the door chimed. Leonard dragged himself through the door, snow blowing in around his feet, dressed in scrubs under his dark jacket. “Black coffee to go,” he ordered.

Nyota took his cash while Jim was busy scribbling ‘sexy southern accent’ on the to-go cup

“What do ya know?” Jim smiled as the timer on the coffee maker went off. He grabbed the pot by its handle and poured it up to the rim of his cup. “I had a feeling you’d be in,” he said, handing Leonard the cup.

“Thanks, kid,” Leonard muttered, dropping a handful of coins into the tip jar.

Nyota spoke only once Leonard was gone. “So,” she said slowly, “Gaila and I were talking last night.”

“And what did Gaila have to say?” asked Jim, leaving the ‘like I don’t already know’ unsaid.

“That you’ve got a raging man-crush on him,” Nyota ribbed. “Her words, not mine.”

“I’ve talked to him all of twice, and it was to give him coffee.” Jim defaulted to defending himself, even though he knew he could be open about that stuff with her.

She poured the fruit from her plastic container into the blender, plopping a spoonful of yogurt on top and then a cup of ice. Nyota held her hand over the lid as the blades spun, the machine’s engine grinding and spitting. “I just saw you write ‘sexy southern accent’ on his cup.”

“Well, it is!”

“Could you hand me one?” She pointed to the cups, kept just out of her reach. Jim did. Nyota poured out the smoothie. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jim took one of the cups and downed a swig of the smoothie. He wiped away the creamy pink mustache from his top lip with the back of his hand. It was his breakfast.

Nyota wiped her already-clean hands down her apron. “I think it’s about time you started hanging out with someone who isn’t your ex-girlfriend.”

xXx

The edge of the laundry basket was digging into Jim’s gut. A heap of rumpled clothes sat in the basket. Doing his own laundry was a rare event, usually it was down to his mother to snap at him for weeks about how she couldn’t see his floor beneath all of his clothes and demanding that he do the goddamn laundry. He trudged slowly down the basement stairs, careful not to trip.

His mother had been on his case about tidying his bedroom for a month. She threatened that it had to be clean before his exams or else – like, what was he? Six years old? Jim decided that he was snowed in on a Saturday morning, home alone, with nothing better to do. He wasn’t doing it because he had to.

The basement was dark and cold, the cement floor was a sheet of ice beneath his bare soles. The back wall was lined with worn-out appliances – a fridge with shelves housing six packs, the oven that didn’t heat up that had been left in the house for them when they moved in, and the washing machine and dryer his mother had bought at a garage sale. His mother visited down here to do the laundry. Jim usually only snuck down here to hide, maybe get a bit drunk if he was feeling dangerous.

He dumped the basket beside the washing machine. Jim threw armfuls of dirty clothes into the machine and added a capful of detergent. The timer on the control panel was busted and Jim didn’t trust the alarm. He hopped on top of the machine and leaned against the wall.

Jim was thankful that his exams started on Monday. He was unnecessarily stressing himself out and sick of hearing about nothing but study guides and GPAs. He didn’t understand his classmates’ panic. The week had been dull and sluggish, a deadly combination if Jim was concerned.

On the upside, he could congratulate himself on devilish flirting skills. You would be really cute if you got some sleep. Sexy southern accent. Your ass looks great in scrubs. And, finally, on Friday morning, Jim had written his phone number on Leonard’s cup and traced over it several times so it couldn’t be missed.

Jim was aware that he probably wouldn’t initiate anything. Leonard seemed more like the southern gentleman type than Jim’s ‘god-you're-so-attractive-just-do-me’ boldness. But he could hope.

He was half-asleep, slumped over the washing machine, when the timer sounded. Jim dragged himself from his seat and shoveled the damp clothes into the dryer. He spun the timer and pressed GO, turning to dump the rest of the laundry basket into the washer.

Thinking about Leonard made Jim was to check his phone. Unlike most high school students Jim knew, he wasn’t attached by the hip to his phone. He dashed upstairs, grabbed it off of the kitchen table, and retreated into the basement.

Jim unlocked his phone. The home screen lit up beneath his fingertips. A notification bar ran across the top of the screen. He’d missed a call from an unknown number. Jim’s heart leapt. He cursed himself for his childish excitement. A message from the same number arrived.

I call to ask you out and you can’t be bothered to answer the phone? – Leonard

Jim stared in disbelief, utter disbelief. His fingertips were numb as he hit the button’s to call Leonard’s number back. It rang twice before he picked up. “You called?” Jim smiled.  
“Jim?” His voice sounded just as good over the phone.

“Yeah?”

“What do you say to Scotty’s at eight?”

Jim didn’t know the place, but he figured it was somewhere near the university. He didn’t care, either, anywhere was good. “Eight is good.”

“See ya then, kid.”

CALL ENDED: 00:24 flashed across the screen. Jim thought that might have been a record, setting up a date in twenty-four seconds. Jim saved Leonard’s number to his phone and stuffed it into his pocket as the timer for the dryer went off.

xXx

Jim snuck out of the house before his mother returned home from work, despite it being well before eight o'clock. He revved his bike around the city, puttering down back alleyways and racing down country roads to kill time. He drummed his fingers along the handlebars.

He drove past the coffee house twice without realizing and a third time, debating whether or not to stop in and bother Nyota. She always seemed to be working. Then he remembered he was low on cash and was going on a date he was going to insist on paying for.

Jim got lost in the web of streets that connected the university campus to the downtown scene. Scotty’s was a pub on the corner across from the university’s medical center. That wasn’t surprising at all to Jim. He circled the block and drove aimlessly until he spotted an empty parking space in a lot far enough away that he would be on-time – and by on time, Jim meant five minutes fashionably late – if he walked to the pub. The lot was enclosed by brick walls on three sides and open to the street on the fourth, policemen patrolled the aisles and cheeky kids were trying to sneak through to get to the back door of a strip club at the back of the lot.

Leonard casually waited outside the pub, dressed in dark jeans and a worn leather jacket. To Jim, he looked like a fucking wet dream. Sunglasses shaded his eyes, despite it always being cloudy in San Francisco.

“Hey,” said Jim, stepping in unnecessarily close to him. He was almost the same height as Leonard. If he dipped his head only slightly he could have kissed his cheek. Jim wanted to.

“Kid,” said Leonard. He sounded nervous and the word passed from his lips like he was reminding himself of their age gap. Jim grinned at him, subtly trying to shimmy closer to him as Leonard guided him inside. It felt too much like a first date to Jim for comfort, like it was going to be awkward, like it was juvenile.

The pub was old fashioned. The walls were lined with quiet booths and a pool table sat in the middle. A polished bar circled the center of the room. Jim knew the rock n’ roll record blaring over the speakers. They didn’t ask to see his ID, which was almost the best part. The hostess instructed them to seat themselves with a smile and sent them off.  
“A bar on the first date?” asked Jim, sitting in the corner booth.

Leonard shrugged off his jacket – revealing a tight white t-shirt that Jim would rather he not wear because, damn, it was distracting. He sat across from Jim, tucking his sunglasses into his jacket pocket. “Something wrong with that?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “I won’t tell your school that you're here, promise.” Leonard chuckled at him.

Jim grumbled. It took a few minutes to sift through the awkward ‘I’m a high school kid who works at a hipster coffee shop and thinks you're totally hot so I asked you out without really knowing you’ introduction to the date. Sitting through that was painfully embarrassing for Jim. Leonard didn’t seem to mind.

“You don’t think I’m grown up enough?” asked Jim teasingly.

Leonard shook his head, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “I think you're grown up in all the wrong ways,” he answered. He said things like that, like a tired man who’d lived many years beyond what his appearance suggested. Jim liked that. “Being mature is a different story.”

Jim laughed. Leonard laughed. They were served two beers without having ordered any. Jim suspected Leonard was a regular by the way the waitress knew his name. This was the kind of place he would like to work, Jim decided. It was just cool.

“So,” said Leonard with his thick southern drawl, “My ass looks good in scrubs?” He grinned, his eyes flickered.

“What can I say?” Jim leaned back easily in his seat. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s told you so.”

“But on a coffee cup at five-thirty in the morning? That was a first.”

“What fun is working in a coffee shop if you don’t harass the handsome hipsters that walk in?”

Leonard chuckled; it was a warm sound that bubbled up from his chest. He looked pleased. Their conversation was easy and welcomed.

Jim allowed himself to ignore the nagging voice in his head, begging him not to talk about his school, just once. He complained about his upcoming exams, how everyone he knew was losing their shit over a couple of tests. Leonard said he knew the feeling, but that his exams were done three weeks ago.

“So what are you doing in town, then?” asked Jim curiously. “Don’t you have a place to go home to for the holidays? Or do you, ya know, not talk to your family? Because I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t talk to mine either.”

Leonard was quietly in love with how forward Jim was. “I’m a med student,” he said. “I really don’t get a break. I’ve been working on a cadaver’s lab with two of my professors. It counts as internship hours for my graduation.”

“When do you graduate?” Jim watched as Leonard took a swig of his beer, reminded how he hadn’t touched his glass yet. He wasn’t scared of drinking – it sure as hell wouldn’t be his first beer – but maybe Leonard would be in trouble for buying it for him.

“I’ve got another year of classes for my undergrad and then at least four more years.” He didn’t sound happy about that. Leonard was the type to want to get up and go, Jim had pieced as much together, he was tired of classes. Jim didn’t blame him. “It all just depends.”

“Would you go home? If you could?”

Leonard hesitated. “To my parents who are still mad at me for breaking it off with my ex and threatened to cut me off because they don’t want me in med school? I’d rather not.”  
That sounded achingly familiar to Jim. “What kind of parents care about ex-girlfriends anyway?”

“Ex-fiancée,” corrected Leonard. “She kept the apartment and the reputation at university there. All I got left is my bones.”

xXx

Leonard kissed Jim goodnight outside the bar. Jim was tipsy enough to forget himself, completely melting against Leonard – whom he had taken to calling ‘Bones’ after what he’d said. He tasted like the cheap beer of the just off-campus pub and something sweet that Jim liked to think was his Georgian accent. Jim’s nose pressed into Leonard’s cheek and he breathed him in.  
xXx

So, Jim would be the first to admit that his night with Leonard wasn’t the best first date. At least it wasn’t the worst. Jim’s gone on plenty of rough first dates – teeth clacking together as they tried to figure out how to kiss, sloppy hook-ups after parties, going to the movies. (Who even goes to the movies on a first date? That’s a terrible idea!) It was bit unrefined but Jim loved every minute of it.

He parked his bike in the garage and slammed the door behind him as he walked inside. Jim was unconcerned with waking his mother. It was nearly midnight and he guessed her to be fast asleep. And Sam would have heard his bike’s engine anyway.

It was unbelievably good to escape the winter wind and icy roads, to feel something solid beneath his feet. Jim wandered through the halls aimlessly. The blue darkness felt protective.

Jim poured himself a tall glass of water in the kitchen, hoping to avoid even the slightest hangover in the morning. He leaned back against the counter. He was blissfully numb.  
Bones liked to talk about school. He also liked to complain, and even though he didn’t know half of the people or places Bones mentioned, Jim liked to listen. He was a good storyteller. Jim mostly added snarky comments and occasionally mentioned how he would have rather gotten a job at Scotty’s than at the coffee shop.

The weak stairs squealed beneath heavy footsteps. Sam trudged into the kitchen tiredly. “What are you doing home so late?” he asked, rummaging through the pantry.

Jim didn’t want to say that being home before midnight was unusual for him, that it was early. He didn’t want Sam to worry about him. “I was on a date,” slurred Jim, sipping his water proudly.

“Yeah? And how’d that go?” Sam moved to the fridge and began scouring the shelves.

“Really good.” Jim downed the last of his water.

“How is Gaila doing, anyway?”

“She’s fine.” It took Jim a moment before he realized. “We broke up, like, two months ago.”

Sam turned sharply to look at him. “And you're already seeing someone else?”

“What’s wrong with that?” returned Jim.

The boxy refrigerator illuminated the kitchen. Jim could only see half of his brother’s face. His empty glass caught the light as he set it on the counter beside the sink. Sam closed the fridge.

Sam shrugged and padded back into the hallway. His footsteps disappeared up the stairs again.

Jim wandered into the living room and crashed into the couch. His mother’s newspapers were spread across the coffee table, her shoes kicked off and lying beside the couch. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Jim uncovered it and held it up, squinting at it in the dark, face half-covered by the couch cushion.

It was a blank message from Leonard.

xXx

Monday morning rolled around lazily. Jim woke to his phone vibrating beneath his pillow, a notification from his school district flashed on his screen. The superintendent had called a snow day. Jim grumbled into his pillow. Exams may have been postponed, but he still had to rip himself out of bed for work.

He ran his fingers through his hair and dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. A film of minty toothpaste lingered in his mouth, tainting the taste of his breakfast. Jim found Sam’s car keys and a notepad. He left a note apologizing for borrowing the car without asking, but it was cold and he knew his wonderful brother would be understanding. Jim left the scrap of paper on the kitchen table where it was sure to be seen.

Jim couldn’t turn any corners without sliding halfway down the block on ice. Jim couldn’t park in his usual space behind the coffee shop, the car was too bulky. At least he was warm, he thought, because he hated his brother’s car.

He clocked in and fashioned the green apron around himself. Jim grumpily joined Nyota behind the counter.

“I went on my date,” he informed. Jim had been excited to see Leonard stroll into the coffee house since he woke on Sunday morning. “It was awesome.”

She was still. Nyota, who could almost always surely be found keeping her hands busy, stood uneasily behind the counter. “That’s nice.”

“Are you okay?”

She nodded but didn’t speak. Jim stammered, trying to fill the silence. “I’m okay,” Nyota assured. Her face was clear of make-up and her hair was tied in a messy knot at the base of her neck; she did not look okay.

“G’morning, kid,” drawled Bones. The winter wind whistled through the shop as snuck inside, escaping the snow. His coat was buttoned this morning. 

Jim fumbled to start a pot of coffee, torn between a broken-looking Nyota and Leonard. He took Leonard’s cash and folded it neatly into the register drawer. He poured the coffee once it was ready and handed the to-go cup to Leonard.

“I think I’m going to stay in this morning, thanks,” smiled Bones cheekily, raising his cup briefly. He watched Jim as he sat down at the table nearest the counter.

Nyota caught his gaze as it flickered towards her. “It’s just a bad morning,” she said, as if she was trying to correct his concern.

“The morning’s barely started.” Jim skirted around the counter and sank into the chair beside Leonard. “Good morning, Bones.”

“That’s a god-awful nickname.” He blew the steam from his coffee as he lifted the cup to his lips, sipping tentatively.

“I’ve got a snow day today.” Jim waggled his eyebrows. “We should go on an impromptu second date.”

Leonard set down his coffee. “I’ve got a lab this morning.”

“And I’m probably going to tack on a second shift. We can go out after that.” Jim hooked his fingers inside the collar of Leonard’s jacket and yanked him in for a kiss. “C’mon, Bones, it’ll be fun.”


End file.
